


Floo Powder and Charades

by cutiepatoodie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Parents, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiepatoodie/pseuds/cutiepatoodie
Summary: Y/N floo’s to the Burrow after a fight with their mother, and they find themselves in the middle of the weekly Weasley family game night
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Floo Powder and Charades

You slam your door and crumple into a ball, silent sobs wracking your small body as you fight to keep them back. The urge to scream rises in your throat and you fight it back, tamping down on your fear to better hide from her. But it doesn’t seem to matter, you can hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, heavily beating in time with your rabbit-like pulse, closing in on your bedroom. And you can feel it automatically kick in, mind working to calculate how long you have before she reaches you, whether you can escape, where you can escape but-

“Y/N L/N get your ungrateful ass down here you little shit.” And you can hear her heavy breaths, dragged in through bared teeth, lips curled in a snarl. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”  
And you almost want to laugh because this seems like anything but talking.

“After everything, I've done for you and you have the gall to disrespect me? Get out here filthy bitch!” The door rattles as her heavy-handed fist fights to twist the doorknob, violently slamming it back and forth as the locking mechanism holds true. “Open the goddamn door or else I'm knocking it down myself!” 

Stumbling away from your door you know that there is no escape. Your mom is going to force her way in no matter what you do to stop her. Fresh waves of tears were making rivers down your cheeks but the idea of wiping them seemed too exhausting, mind already resigned to your inevitable fate. Blearily looking around you remembered the small box you kept on the mantle on the other side of your room that Ron had given you for your birthday. Instinct takes over and struggling to overcome your leaden feet you rise, stumbling to the boarded-up fireplace. Your hands grip the wood and try to pry the boards away, mind desperately catching onto the sliver of hope. This was your only chance to get out of this house. Having to go to Azkaban for improper use of magic at this point seemed better than staying locked up in her house. 

The banging on your door was getting louder and more repetitive and as your nails scrabble to find purchase on the aging wood, digging in with the strength of survival fueled desperation. Finally, after what felt like forever you hear a crack and one of the boards break giving you more leverage to take down the rest and you clear just enough for you to climb through.

“What’s all that noise in there? Y/N open the fucking door.” And finally, the lock gives way with a groan as your mother bursts inside, hair tangled and chest heaving, flexing with rage and fury. This is it, she’s finally going to kill me this time. The small box heavy in your hands is the only thing grounding you. The thought of your mother crossing into the only place in the house you felt remotely safe from her taunts and screaming makes your chest tighten, breath leaving your lungs in a panicked whoosh. You can barely feel your fingers as they fumble with the box’s delicate clasp revealing the small amount of glittering powder inside. Throwing the powder into the hearth you choke out a small “the burrow” before being zapped into the floo network. 

And even before the flames have properly cleared you can smell farmland, the rich, earthy scent of hay, grass, and freshly turned soil laden underneath the softer scent of warm vanilla, cinnamon and something uniquely home. There were so many voices. Blending together, some words appearing clearer than others. 

“Not knowing how to dance!”

“Good one Georgie but I’d say He’s outrunning a Moose!”

“Maybe he’s trying to swat a fly?”

“What if Dad’s trying to play quidditch?”

“It’s probably some muggle thing anyway. Do you know what he’s on about Harry?”

“Uhhh, it could be… Y/N?” Harry yells, astonished, while looking straight at the fireplace where his friend had just appeared. 

“What do you mean Harry? Y/N is staying with their mother over the break.” Hermione is quick to reply as silence falls over the living room. Everyone turns towards the fireplace to see you caught like a deer in headlights, disheveled and unexpected in the Weasley’s living room. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know where else to go. I can floo back home. You know what never mind, I can just leave. Where do you keep the Floo Powder?” You were rambling now going off apologizing for coming in unannounced. You know your voice is cracking and fighting against the fresh sting of tears that prickle at your eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry darling you can be on the twin’s team. Arthur was just about to tell us if we had won or not.” Molly’s voice is so soft and comforting. She gestures to the open spot between her and Fred in front of the couch. Without much thought, your legs bring you there sitting down, back pressed to Hermione’s legs as she reaches down to put a kind hand on your shoulder. Molly pats your knee with reassurance and the game continues. 

“All of you were wrong, I was swimming!” Arthur announces, pleased to have won the round. 

“If that’s how you swim it’s no wonder we never go to the beach.” Fred chortles, clutching his stomach and leaning into George for support. The familiar tug of a smile pulls at your lips and soon enough you are laughing the tension out of your muscles. As the beams from the setting sun started to cast a peachy pink glow around the room Molly stands up and excuses herself and Arthur to start putting dinner together. A familiar tension grew thick in the room. No one wants to be the one to bring it up but everyone is thinking it so Ron finally speaks up. 

“Who’s up for a quick scrimmage in the backyard before dinner? We’ve probably got another two hours before the sun sets.” The seven of you make your way to the shed in the back yard to grab the brooms. Upon reaching the doors Harry pulls you aside. 

“Hey, I know I’m not the best with feelings but… if you need anything, from any of us, we’re here.” Harry awkwardly pats you on the back, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Thanks, Harry, but really I’m okay. I’m just stressed about that potions project Snape assigned for us to have done when we come back in April and I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t the only one going crazy over it.” You let out a breathy laugh and Harry can see that the smile plastered on your face in no way reaches your eyes. He looks at you, seeming to weigh the worth of calling you on your shit before relenting with a huff. “Yeah Snape never misses a chance to be a damn prick.” You know that he doesn’t believe you, but it does not matter since he’s not pushing it. 

The teams were decided, Ginny, Ron, and Harry, against you and the twins. Hermione was reffing and made sure to agree to settle any fight that came up over scorekeeping. The three on three went on for about an hour before Fred caused a distraction so that you could catch the snitch. Returning down to earth your knees buckled and you decided to lay on your back for a bit before standing up again. Everyone followed suit, laying in the fresh grass covered in drying sweat and a few scrapes and bruises. 

“I can’t believe we beat the famous Potter in a game Y/N. You have to tell Cedric that when you go back to practice.” Fred said, lazily punching your shoulder. You didn’t mean to flinch. It was an accident but by how tense Fred was on the grass beside you, it was obvious he had noticed. 

“If you’re going to ask if I’m okay, just don’t. You did nothing wrong, okay Freddie?” Your voice felt distant as you tried to reassure the lanky beanpole to your left. You sat up feeling a bit more clear headed and yelled. “I call the first shower!” before running back into the comfort of the Burrow. 

The water rolled off your body as your muscles finally were able to relax. The familiar sounds and smells of the Burrow were doing wonders for your anxiety. You poured some soap into the palm of your hand and absentmindedly scrubbed dirt from your skin. While washing your mind began to wander through the events of the day. Thoughts of your mother tried to creep back in but suddenly there was a banging on the door as it swung open. 

“Close the curtain Y/n I need to take a leak and Georgie is taking forever downstairs.” Fred called before the sound of a zipper rang through the bathroom. Your heart was pounding as you tried to bring yourself back to the world around you. The toilet flushed and the sound of the sink was barely audible through the beating of your heart. The doorknob started to turn and before your brain could catch up the words were out of your mouth. 

“Can you stay?” It came out so softly Fred could have sworn he made it up. His cheeks dusted pink and thank goodness for the obnoxious shower curtain Molly insisted on putting in their bathroom which covered him from your gaze. He cautiously sat on the toilet seat afraid that if he made too much noise you’d try to push him away again. 

“Do you want me to ask around for some clothes you can change into? I mean if it were me I wouldn’t want to put my quidditch clothes back on.” Fred scratched the back of his neck staring down at the floor. 

“Oh yeah I didn’t even think that far ahead to be honest. I mean if it's okay just like a hoodie and a pair of shorts would be awesome. I’m almost done in here anyway.” Your voice sounded more like you than it had all day. Fred released a breath he did not realize he was holding. He just wanted you to feel safe. 

“Yeah of course! I’ll uhh go and grab some clothes and a towel and uhh yeah meet you back downstairs when you're dressed is that okay? I know that you wanted me to stay but I kind of have to leave if you want me to get ya some clothes. Or I mean I can always text Gin and see if she can bring some….” Fred devolved into muttering about what the most effective way to grab you some clothes and not leave you alone longer than is comfortable. 

“Freddie it’s okay, I’m not going to break. Your room is right across the hall and I already have a towel in here with me.” Hearing the teasing smile in your voice calmed down his nerves. Why did he feel so nervous anyways. You had been around the burrow for a while and it shouldn’t be making him this nervous. With a quick be right back he slipped out of the door. Grabbing a pair of shorts and his newest Christmas sweater his mother knitted for him last year he padded back to the bathroom. The water wasn’t running anymore so he figured he probably should just set the clothes outside.

“Hey Y/n I’m just gonna put these outside the door. So uhh whenever you're ready I'll see you downstairs.” He placed the clothes in a neat pile and scuttled to the head of the stairs. 

Pulling Fred’s sweater over your head made you feel way calmer than you first had expected to. It was warm and cozy and smelled of firewood and s'mores. It was quite big on you but that did not matter. Drying your hair one last time with the towel you left the bathroom hearing the voices of your friends from all the way down on the main floor. A smile spread to your lips knowing that no matter what happened next did not matter because right now you felt safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm probably going to update this soon


End file.
